This is Not a Yuffentine
by Firefly99
Summary: So here’s the deal.I do not love Vincent. I do not have a crush on Vincent. No, nope, nada, nul, nil. He has merely stolen my heart. It’s an entirely different thing...[Revised!]
1. It begins

This Is Not a Yuffentine

By Firefly99

So here's the deal.

I do not love Vincent.

I do not have a crush on Vincent. No, nope, nada, nul, nil.

He has merely stolen my heart.

It's an entirely different thing.

F'r instance, Hojo could probably steal my heart. He'd probably label it 'Yuffie's Heart' and use it as a paperweight being the morbid jerko he is, but…right, I'm rambling again.

But the point is it's a TOTALLY different thing. And the fact remains…

I do not love Vincent.

I do not think his dark air of wonderful mystery is alluring. I do not find those red eyes so undeniably…cool, in a pit-of-hellfire kinda way. I do not think that his perpetual tormented coldness makes me want him even more. I do not think that everything from his posture to his hair to his deep goth-y voice is really, really sexy.

I don't lie awake at night thinking about him, muttering 'Vincent' over and over in my sleep, and fantasizing about having him hold my hand as I wake him from that nightmare he keeps going on about, and we can go skipping through a flower field like they always do in mushy movies and things. I don't, I honestly don't! I swear! And I don't have a labcoat stashed away under my pillow so I can pretend to be Lucrecia in the dead of night, when no-one's around, and I can enact my fantasies with a rolled-up sleeping bag stuffed with pillows. I don't.

I do not love Vincent. Despite the fact I have to jam my fist into my mouth to stop myself from drooling whenever I see him; despite the fact I carved YUFFIE K 4 VINCENT V 4EVA into the hilt of Spikes's sword with the point of my shuriken (and weeks of polishing haven't even faded it – it remains a symbol of my eternal love – um, that is; the eternal love I don't actually have for him if you know what I mean or something.)

I do not love Vincent, and that is how it is.

Period.

Which of course explains exactly why I was trying to get in the inn with him. Alone.

What..? Why are you lookin' at me like that? I didn't mean I was going to force myself in the same bed as him or anything stupid like that. That is just…wrong. I mean, I'm Kisaragi Yuffie the Somethingth (I can't remember the number. I think it's Six. But it could be the Fifth. Will the Mystery Ever be Solved? Hey, I need some form of suspense in this thoroughly pointless little anecdote, you know…) and I'd never have little enough honor to do something like that.

…Ok, Wutai is a big advocate of the sex-after-marriage rule, you know?

But the thing is, I needed privacy if I was going to pour out my heart, soul and feelings I, um, didn't have (capiche?) to anyone, especially quiet, introverted Vincent, right? And boldness was a quality I was famous for, so I had made up my mind.

I was going to be the bold Yuffie everyone knew and worshipped.

I was going to admit my feelings for Vincent.

At the time of this story, we had nothing else left to do except face up to Sephiroth. Shinra was gone, and good riddance too. The result of our boredom was a collaborative idea from Chesty, Spikes and Cid, which isn't really an advertisement in my opinion.

The idea was that if we fought and lost, we would die. And since we had a week before Meteor entered the Planet's atmosphere (and, despite the fact that most meteorites burn up to the size of a large grape when they enter it, this one had no plans of doing that) they'd eventually decided to use that borrowed time to travel the world.

Again.

It was an AVALANCHE World Tour (if you're interested in a top quality, 100 per cent Wutaian organic cotton T-shirt bearing that slogan, contact me later) that was really our little goodbye to the world of life if anything went really horribly wrong. Like if Sephiroth creamed us, or Holy wasn't unleashed, or if Vincent didn't return my feelings.

At the time of this branch of the story (oh, it's gonna be long. I promise) we were staying in Costa del Sol inn. I'll openly admit that I didn't look exactly right for my plan – really sexy would be nice – but I had some nastily peeling sunburn on my nose thanks to the hot Costan sun. The weird thing was that Spikes and Vincent are, like, really pale. Neither of them ever tan in the least. And neither of them have even the slightest hint of sunburn. Which strikes me as totally unfair, but whatever.

So, first things first for my Master Plan.

"Hey, Spikes!!"

He looked up from the bed. I noticed he'd taken off all his armour ready for the evening. It was lying in a big bundle of metal and leather and bandages on the floor beside him. "What is it, Yuff?"

Yuff. I like the nickname, but, to be honest, I only really want to hear it from The Sexy V.

"Errm…I don't know how to say this, but Spikes, could you do me a little favour? Pleeaaaaase?"

Instantly he was suspicious. (To be honest, it wasn't without reason. I mean, I have begged him for his materia to the point where I near paralysed my vocal chords saying 'pleeaaaaase' too much. I think that was the only time he actually shouted at me. Doesn't shout a lot, does our spiky-headed little friend. Well, actually, he's real mellow, but you wouldn't know it, would you?)

"…What?"

I noticed the barely evident pause before he spoke. He's so mistrustful of me.

"Look, it's not like it's anything hard, or something you won't enjoy or anything…All I want you to do is leave the inn."

He pause, fixed his eyes unwaveringly on mine (eek!) and then asks the one thing I REALLY didn't want him to.

"Why?"

"Well, ain't that the Billion Gil Question." I grinned.

He gave me another suspicious glare. I knew what he was thinking. He thought I was after the party's materia again. Dammit, why is he so distrustful?

"Look, if it makes you feel any better…take your materia!!" I shouted. "I just want you to take everyone out of the inn with you!! OUT!! - Except Vincent, of course."

Pause.

"Why not Vincent?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Now it was my turn to give a long silence.

"Why not?" he repeated.

"…IgssIkndalikehm." I mumbled.

"What was that?"

"…IguessIkindalikehim."

"I can't hear you, Yu-"

"I LOVE VINCENT!!! OOOOO-KAY?!?! HAPP-PY!?!?" I screeched in his ear.

He winced.

"Okay…But, I feel kinda sorry for him…" He scratched his head. "Poor Vincent…"

"Whadd'ya mean by that??" I countered, pretty angry if he'd just implied what I thought he'd implied.

"Nothing," he sighed. "Just…well…you know…Vincent's always so cold and dark-"

"But when he's nice he's REALLY nice-"

"But he's about fourty-nine-"

"But he looks like he's in his early twenties-"

"But I- Oh, forget it. I'll let you do whatever you want to Vincent."

"Ooh!! You will??"

"Yeah. Not sure he will, though."

I tried to ignore the innuendo in his joke. So, fine. It wasn't a very funny joke, but it had innuendo in. Which I had to ignore.

I couldn't.

"Sooo....are you going or not?"

"Whatever..." Spikes sighed, leaving the room. I heard a few snatches of conversation and Tifa laughing a little (and if it was her laughing at me liking Vincent, I'd shave Spikes' beloved blond points off in his sleep for telling her) and then I saw him go past the window, being followed by everyone else. Well, almost.

It's like that game you play at parties when you're six, you know, where they have a tray and they take things off it and you have to remember which thing is missing.

In this case, the missing item was Vincent.

YESSS!!!!!!! WHOO-HOOO!!! BOO-YAKA!!!!!!!

Instantly I charged over to find The Sexy V.

The Sexy V? I'm gonna have to drop that nickname, it makes it sound like a wrestler or something.

But anyway.

He found me in the end. He was standing in that really drool-able way, looking at me droolably through those droolable long eyelashes and those droolable red eyes.

"Cloud said you had something to tell me, Yuffie."

"Yes, Vincent." My own voice sounded unusually sultry for me. "You are my angel in a demon's form, my reason to followeth Spikes untoeth the endeth of thiseth world. I loveth thou."

His voice sounded sexy as ever.

"Yes. I lovest thou too, the only girleth I have felteth like thiseth foreth sinceth Lucrecia. Eth."

I drifted towards him, under the silky fingers of raw desire, and the two of us celebrated our love in much passionate - um - kissing.

THE END

Fine. That only happened in my head.

What really happened went more like this. It isn't as much fun as the last one – in fact, it sucks antelopes – but it's true.

"Cloud said you had something to tell me, Yuffie. From the tone of his voice, it was implied to be urgent and important."

Urgent and important? Did that mean Spikes was trying to help me? Perhaps he was worrying about me! Yeah!

And that was the moment I decided I liked Spikes.

Not in that way, obviously.

"What was the message, Yuffie?"

"Uh. Um. Well. Uh. Ahem…uh…guh…"

I felt my throat freeze. My muscles all locked into place as if I had been paralyzed by one of them REALLY ANNOYING red buggy things that keep kicking my sorry butt in the Battle Arena.

"What?" he spoke again, his smooth sexy baritone making me go all mushy inside - well, it would have done, if my insides hadn't been frozen harder than Sephiroth on steroids.

"….bleh…"

_URGENT MESSAGE_

_FROM: Yuffie's Brain_

_TO: Yuffie's Mouth_

_SUBJECT: DAMN YOU!!!_

_MESSAGE RUNS: WHY AREN'T YOU CO-OPERATING???? WORK WITH ME, DAMMIT!!!!_

_MESSAGE ENDS_

"Yuffie, are you perfectly healthy? You do not sound very well…"

OH MY GAWD!!! HE WAS SHOWING CARE FOR ME!!! MY DREAM HAD COME TRUE!!

"….I'm OK." I croaked.

"Are you certain?" he asked, raising an immaculate arched eyebrow.

"Yeah. Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah. Absolutelypositivelyfinenothingtoworryabout-"

"What was this message?"

"I…uh….oh, dear sweet Leviathan, I can't…."

"Can't what?"

"REMEMBER!!!" I screamed out at the top of my voice the first verb that popped into my head. (In retrospect, it was just as well it wasn't something like 'have sex' or 'drool' or 'shut up'. If it had been, this story would have ended very differently.) "I can't remember the message!!!"

"Really?"

"Nonononononono!!!!!!!!" I howled.

"Oh… Yuffie, you…you are not a very efficient courier, are you not?"

I'm not a what in a who now?

"Yes. I'm the least efficient courier ever. Reallyreallyreallyreallyrea-"

"Will you STOP that."

I froze. Again.

I have never before heard Vincent stress words like that.

"…stop….what…?"

"That - That almost Tourette's Syndrome-like repetition of a single word. It is…so…irritating." He took a breath. "Maddening!"

Seeing Vincent mad sorta removed a lot of his ethereal-ness.

It's not one of those things you can ever get used to, really; vampiric-looking Vincent in a rage. Vincent the mysterious, stoic loner. Vincent the…well…Vincent. Mad. It doesn't really fit into my imagination easily, and I have an imagination bigger than a large country. So, I'll describe him.

His usual ethereal pallor had darkened to an odd bluish colour. (Vinnie has blue blood? Excuse me, but…eww…) His crimson eyes flared like fireworks, and narrowed into slits. His usual smooth voice had become slightly rough and even deeper, sounding like a demonic snarl.

It

was

_HORRIBLE_.

"Yuffie?"

"……yuh…?"

"You are nothing but an immature, naïve, juvenile brat."

"…Come again?" What was I hearing?

"You are a brat! A BRAT!"

I swear at that point, the world around me crumbled. I was so confused, and insulted…

Yeah, I know Barret and Cid call me a brat all the time, but…not Vincent.

Not Vincent!!

No!! NOT VINCENT!!

It must be a product of my overactive imagination.

Yeah, in a few seconds, I'll wake up, screaming.

Just a few seconds - oh God, I'm so miiixxxeeeed uuuuuup…

It was at that moment the paralysis broke off, and I ran out of the inn, trying not to let it affect me.

It's one thing being insulted.

It's another thing being insulted by someone you love.

"So he thinks I'm a brat?" I said to myself. A few girls in bikinis gave me a 'she's nuts' look, and some hot beach guys I'd normally be obsessed with impressing stared at me blankly. But I didn't care. Nothing mattered, I was a brat brat brat, and even Vincent thinks so. "I - I'll give him…brat. I - I'll - I'll prove him WRONG!! I'll change!!"

I was running now, down on to the beach. People were staring at me, I didn't care, nothing could make me care now, except Vincent, I was nothing but a brat, in his eyes anyway, and I want his eyes on me, not just some stupid fantasy, uh…hey. That rhymes. I must be really mad. I'm thinking in poetry.

"Hey there, Yuff."

Spikes was standing next to me, looking down at me in a mixture of interest and mild pity.

"YAHH!! Oh, uh, sorry, you made me jump, I'm a brat brat brat I'm sorry…."

"Yuffie, calm down," he advised, putting his hand on my shoulder. I lowered my head slightly. It was nice. He was trying to help me.

I took some deep breaths to slow myself down.

"It doesn't matter," I said, bitterly. "Nothing matters. I don't need to say anything. 'Cause I'm a brat."

"What?" Spikes leaned it. His voice was even more gentle than usual. A couple of professional beach perverts went ooh-la-la behind me. I snapped my head around, yelled an unprintable obscenity at them, and turned back to face Cloud.

"Just don't pay any attention to me. A-n-y."

"Yuffie?" He was looking at me with worry now. "Are you alright? Um, how did it go?"

"Vincent YELLED AT ME!!!!" I screamed. "HE CALLED ME A BRAAAAAAT!!!!!!"

"Yuffie, shush. Vincent wouldn't do that."

"YES HE DID!!!" I sobbed at him. "I DON'T BELIEVE THIS!!!! WHAT DID I DOOOOOO WRONG??????!!!!!"

He let his hand drift down my arm. "Yuffie, it's…alright. Probably he just didn't expect you to tell him that."

I took a few gulping breaths, trying to regain some sort of composure. "Ahh… But that's the thing!!!"

"What?"

"I NEVER MANAGED TO TELL HIM!!!" Hysteria, welcome back. I was now crying into the bottom of Spikes's shirt. He didn't seem to mind much.

That was kinda unusual. You see, the two of us had never totally gotten along. Admittedly we did, like, bond, sorta, after the whole stolen materia incident, and after Aeris…left us, he was the one I cried on. Because he needed my support and I needed his.

I guess you could say we were the best of friends now, but we both hate each other with a vengeance at the same time. I do like him, but he just _annoys_ me. I annoy him, though. Tit for tat. But he was nice, and he seemed to like me. He was the one I felt most at home with in the group.

Vincent, however, makes me become incapable of coherent speech and therefore isn't included.

"…Why? What happened?"

"Umm…well, Ikindachickenedoutwhichreallyreallysucks-"

"Yuffie, stay calm. I can't understand a word you're saying."

"OK. OK." I took a succession of deep healing breaths. "Here's how it goes. I went to tell Vincent. When he asked me what it was, I told him that I couldn't remember, because I'd gone all stiff and I was really really like soooo scared, so I told him I couldn't, like, remember - "

"Mmm-hmm…"

"…and he totally like lost it. Lost his temper. I mean it. Vincent. Ha. Weird. But anyway, he, like, lost his temper, and CALLED ME A BRAT which is so like not Vincent-ish…"

"…carry on…"

"..so I ran out here crying like a lunatic. End of story."

"Oh…"

Spikes looked a bit apologetic. I felt a little happier.

Not much.

But a little happier.

I blew my nose on Spikes's shirt.

"Thanks for all of that. Listening to me and everything. Hearin' me out." I said to him, still miserable.

"It's nothing. Really."

But then I realised what I had to do.

"Spikes?"

"Yeah?"

"Spikes, you gotta help me. PLEASE help me. I'm a brat!! I need Vincent!! NEED HIM!! But he don't like brats, and I'm a brat… Spikes…can you…"

"What?"

"I don't want to be a brat. Please, Spikes, I need to be, like, be the kinda girl Vincent'll like, the next Lucrecia. Not just some shinobi jerk!! Oh gods, Spikes, Spikes; I wanna be normal."

"…What?"

"I wanna…be…normal." I repeated, slowly. "Spikes, you gotta stop me from bein' a brat!! Anti-bratness lessons or whatever!! You know!! But you gotta help me!!"

"I don't know, Yuffie. Why don't you ask Tifa? She knows a lot more about…girls and charm and things than I do…"

"Because I don't want to tell her!!!" I cut him off. "You already know!! I don't want to tell anyone else!! But I had to tell you!! Because otherwise, you would never have let me talk with Vincent!! Look, Spikes, you're my only hope!!"

"No."

"WHAT?!"

"It's just a hopeless crush, Yuffie. I'm pretty sure that in a couple of weeks, you'll be-"

"DEAD!! IN A COUPLE OF WEEKS I'LL BE DEAD!!! BECAUSE, I'll be like so totally miserable I won't be able to fight or whatever, and without my help, Meteor will squash you flat!!"

Cloud gave me a look meaning, 'if I stuck my sword vertically down through the top of your head there'd still be plenty sticking out the other end'.

"Pleeeeeeaaaaase?"

"No."

"Oh Gods, Spikes, I thought you liked me….."

"I…I do like you, Yuffie, just there's no point in doing this…"

Ok. Well last resort time again. (Dammit.)

"Um….Cloud…."

"What?"

"I hate resorting to bribery, but…if you give me anti-brat lessons….I'll give you your materia back."

I hadn't actually stolen it yet, but I could change that.

"What do you mean?" Cloud said, in the slow tone of someone who knows exactly what the other person means and is shocked but is too mellow a person to scream 'WHAT???!!!' in the other person's face.

"I know, I know." I said, quite enjoying the incensed look on Spike's face. "For now, I AM still a brat, so I can do stuff like that. Jerk-o."

"…You're so low…" he growled.

"-and I'm proud of it too. But Vinnie doesn't like it, so I have to change, and I want your help. Please, will you do it? For me?"

"…………OK." Spikes said reluctantly. "But…"

"What?"

"You could start by not calling me a jerk-o ever again."

A/N: Apologies. For some reason, this story got taken down. (Well, I know the reason, but it wasn't a valid one.) Seeing as the first chapter was two years old, I cleaned it up, took out jokes that weren't funny, added extra ones that were, cleaned up the spellings, fixed the punctuation, decoded my grammar and took out a grand total of seventeen (yup, I counted) unnecessary exclamation marks.

I'm afraid I'm not going to thank my reviewers any more. It's nothing personal, as I have the utmost respect for all of you and jump for joy every time I see a review, but I'm not going to. Because I realized the beginning author's notes were getting out of control. Besides, we all know the story's more important than the author's notes.

I made Cloud less OOC, made Yuffie more creepy with her Vincent obsession, and…well.

Sorry, folks. The old TINAY is dead, but the new TINAY will take its place and rule proudly.

Enjoy.

Firefly99


	2. The full Trinny and Suzannah

This is Not a Yuffentine

by Firefly99

A/N: I didn't change this a lot from the last draft, because I couldn't be bothered I was happy with it anyway.

Oh, before I forget, this is NOT A YUFFENTINE. Seriously. It isn't. I mean it. Turn back NOW if you wanna see some Yuffie/Vincent slush, I'm sure about half of the other fics at this site can accommodate you.

Oh, and I should mention – I like Tifa. Really. OK? I'm not trying to bash her here. Yuffie's nickname may cause screams of anguish from Tifa fanatics, but it's all in the name of humour. Plus, Yuffie does like her, honestly. She likes everyone. Except possibly Cid. (No offence to Cid fans.)

I've been having a huge case of writer's block recently. It doesn't help that this fic is guaranteed to be AU thanks to Advent Children…Yeah. I've traced all my writer's block back to Advent Children. I'm scared to write anything unless the movie proves me 100 percent wrong.

* * *

I've heard it said that the world is a truly horrible place to be.

The Planet we are on is supposedly a death-trap.

And apparently, no-one up there cares.

This is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard, because it is obvious that there is a Great Compassion in this universe.

Because, to me anyway, it is obvious that Vincent Valentine is the God of Sex, made man so that women might really live.

Oh gawd, I'm rambling again, aren't I?

Look, I'll just lay down the scene for ya.

We'd – read, Spikes and Inflate-a-Chest (or Tifa as she prefers to be called for some reason) – decided to move on later today. We (see previous usage of this word) were planning to arrive at Mt. Corel by sunset.

Thing is, we were taking the Highwind.

And, worst of all, we were taking the Highwind _slowly_. I call it the Plaster Effect. You know when you get a plaster, right? If you peel it off slowly, it hurts just as much, and it isn't over for what feels like forever.

I've no idea if the others were aiming for a pleasure cruise-type thing, but for me it was bound to be more of a displeasure cruise.

I wasn't looking forward to it in the least. Still, there was zero chance of a hijacking or sabotage mission to get out of it for at least a day, as we'd all boarded the Highwind, and taken our usual positions. And I was feeling sick already, even though we hadn't taken off.

We all have our little pre-flight rituals.

Spikes takes a few Tranquilizers to lessen the airsickness. (I've tried that. It doesn't work for me. I was cynical about it from the start, really, so it might be due to a placebo effect that it works or doesn't work. Cool, I'm a scientist!)

Inflate-a-Chest takes her mind off the flight by helping the Chocobo Guy clean the stable out. (Booo-ring.)

Vincent slips away oh-so-mysteriously to the monitors in the cockpit. I think he actually understands what those monitors are trying to say, with their screenfuls of gibberish. I think he understands everything and everyone, especially me. I also think he's totally dreamy, but that isn't the point I'm trying to get across here.

Cid smokes a cigarette, but that isn't really special because he smokes all the time with no provocation.

Perhaps I should think of a nickname for Cid.

How about The Human Chimney?

Yeah. I like that.

Anyway, my pre-flight ritual is super simple.

Go to The Barf Hole, the nickname I've given to my reserved spot out in the hall.

Get out sick bag.

Stick head in sick bag.

Wait.

That's it.

I was doing Step Three of this little ritual, when suddenly-

"You OK?"

I jerked round. Well, not really, because if I had I'd have puked all over Spikes's SOLDIER Standard Issue boots. I jerked round _slowly_, if that's possible.

"Uh…hell no?"

Spikes tried to suppress a smirk.

I'd better point something out about Spikes's smirk at this point.

Inflate-a-Chest likes to describe Spikes as being 'reserved with his emotions'. This means that he doesn't really laugh much, or smile too widely. So with Spikes, it's all like half-smiles, and smirks, and absent nods. But, oh God, those…smirks. It's like he's internally laughing his butt off at something you're doing right now, but are completely unaware of. It's the smile equivalent of the sniggers you receive if you walk into a room with toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

Oh GOD!! I hate that smirk!! It always makes me feel so self-conscious!!! It makes me wanna wrap my hands around his throat and strangle every last drop of life outta him!!

"Well…" he began, but was cut off by what sounded like eleven consecutive explosions, followed by at least fifteen different swear words. It could only mean we were taking off.

The floor beneath me jolted violently, as if I was sitting in a bouncy castle filled with hyperactive, obese kids.

Spikes swallowed. He was starting to turn pale. Quickly, he sat down beside me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like there's been a road accident in my stomach…" I burbled.

He chuckled quietly. "Yuff, remember. Move around, stretching from time to time-"

"-look out of the window, focusing on the horizon-" I carried on.

"-and never, ever, EVER read," we finished together.

"Look," I told him, "s'not as if I don't try, but…blehh…" (The Highwind had buffeted slightly at this point) "…when you're feelin' this bad, s'kinda hard to do anythin' about it, is'nit?"

Oh yeah, did I mention that when I get airsick, I make Barret look coherent?

"I know how you feel," Spikes nodded. "Want a drink?"

He was holding some bottled water. Yeah! I find that it helps if I drink water as soon I start to feel a bit off, and, later on, if I _do_ puke, it doesn't taste as horrible. So, I grabbed it straight out of Spikes's hand, and took a huuuge swig.

"Thanks," I said, and added weight to this with a polite burp.

"So, anyway," Spikes began, businesslike as usual, "about the whole brat thing."

"Oh…blehggh…tha'? Not now, Spikes," I retorted. "I don't feeeel weeeell…"

Spikes groaned. "Oh, you'll get over it. Now, I just wanted to talk to you privately –"

" - and none of the udders'd venture here…" I finished. "I think they like their shoes."

Oh yeah, I meant to say, 'others would' but it's kinda hard to pronounce when your sphincter is occupied with stopping you pukin' in Spikes's face. (See? I'm kind, caring, considerate, and polite enough to care about Spikes! I wonder why Vincent doesn't like me?)

"Yeah, 'xactly. But, the thing is…" Spikes waved his hands around in front of him, drawing two little circles in the air next to each other. He tends to wave his hands around a lot when he's talking. It's funny. "The thing is, you may not enjoy these 'anti-bratness lessons' or whatever you wanna call them. I really don't think that this is a good idea. Besides, we don't have any time to waste."

"Look, if time is so important – blehg – then why are we even taking this stupid tour?" I asked him. "Not to mention," I added, "the long term effects would be worth it. Of the anti-bratness lessons. Not the tour."

"You mean," Spikes said, calmly, "that you'd do anything to get him to notice you? Even stuff you wouldn't enjoy?"

"Spiiikes, I would honestly kiss a Malboro – on the lips - if it meant I had a better chance of dating Vincent."

"Now that sounds truly desperate," Spikes smirked. "So, there's no way I can get out of this?"

"Nope," I said, enjoying the mental torture I was putting him through.

Go Mentally Torture a Guy with an Oversized Sword Today™!! It's The Most Fun You've Ever Had™!! ©Kisaragi Yuffie, Inc.

I'm pretty sure Spikes gave a grin at that point. Or was he just clenching his teeth, trying not to be sick? Yeah, that's most likely. Spikes doesn't grin too widely, unless something really pleases him. And he's obviously against this whole thing.

"OK," he eventually agreed. It sounded very reluctant. But hey, I got hold of what I wanted, and it doesn't matter what I have to do to get my way.

At least, not to me.

"Won'er how 'ong this whole trip's gonna take?" I asked him.

"Too long," he replied, and then gave me a little smile. "But it's not gonna last forever."

"Yeaaah, and it'll be over eve' sooner if I go up to Cid and strangle 'im."

"I'm enjoying talking with you, Yuffie."

At this point I nearly was sick, not from the Highwind buffeting, but from pure, raw, refined surprise.

"Wha'?"

Spikes gave a little chuckle. "I was in a pretty black mood this morning. You've…cheered me up a lot."

I groaned, and shoved my head in my hands.

"Who cares abou' tha'? I…bleh…mean, not to be rude or anything, but always look after Number One, righ', and right now Number One feels sick," I whined.

"Well, to be honest, my Number One is so thoroughly doped up on Tranquillisers that he doesn't have a clue what's going on with the ship," Spikes smiled. Then he paused. "Yuffie, stand up."

"Whyyyy?"

"Just do it."

Groaning, I got to my feet. (Strangely enough, I felt a bit less sick…) However, I did have to hold on to the railing to stop myself collapsing.

Spikes, too, stood up, and backed away.

I just want to ask; what caused Spikes to have his eyes replaced with blue lasers? I mean, seriously, I could feel them burning into my face, my waist, my legs, my feet, even my brea – well, wherever he happened to be examining at the time

He pushed a strand of blond hair behind his ear. " 'Kay. Now, turn around."

"Is my butt really that sexy?" I asked, ready to enjoy his reaction.

"Just do it."

Weeeellll, great way to spoil that gag, Spiky.

I turned around obligingly. I swear I could feel his laser eyes burning into my butt. But I couldn't turn around and check for risk of annoying him.

"Posture needs work. You're slumping. It hides your figure. Which is actually really nice." he said, coming towards me.

"Yeah, nice if you find ironing boards sexy, but – I mean, wha-"

"Your face is nice, but a bit of makeup might make it look better."

"How would YOU know tha-"

"You ought to try dressing in something more tasteful –"

"Yeah, like you know tasteful. What are those bandages for, anyway-"

"And how long has it been since you last brushed your hair?"

He had me there.

"About….three or four weeks, I think. But – but I did wash it!!" I screamed. "Don't give me the full Trinny and Susanna, Spikes!"

"You were the one who asked for it," he said, in the most evil, eviiiil voice I've ever heard on a person outside of a horror film. "Lessons begin today, soon as we reach Mt. Corel. Be there."

"Or what?" It slipped out before I could cram it back in…

"Do you really _want _to have to kiss a Malboro?"


End file.
